


in the dead of night

by indistinct_echo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Mermaids, Smut, Vampire!Phil, Vampires, mermaid!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo
Summary: "Merrow blood smells so much sweeter than human blood, masking a tartness that warns creatures like Phil that the being before them isn’t easy prey. He loves Dan’s blood for both reasons; the risk only heightens the pleasure."Vampire!Phil and Mermaid!Dan
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 53





	in the dead of night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [americanphancakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanphancakes/gifts).



> Merrow (from Irish murúch, Middle Irish murdúchann or murdúchu) is a mermaid or merman in Irish folklore. The term is of Irish-English origin.  
> \- Wikipedia, Merrow

Phil runs parallel to the dark waves, the sand creating the most frustrating friction. It is a necessary precaution; though it’s late enough in the evening that it is unlikely there will be any passerby, the drag of the sand slows him down enough that, even if there were to be the quick flash of headlights his direction, they’d only see a slightly too fast runner and not a swift force of the night. They wouldn’t stop to consider that his run looks too graceful for the sandy, wet shore and just drive right on by without being any the wiser.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of silver in the water. It follows him like the moon’s reflection as he runs. Phil smiles – he is always up for a race. He knows he’ll lose; his ease in the human world is nothing compared to a merrow in water, but he digs his heels into the sand with extra force in an attempt to propel himself farther with each stride.

Salt-tinged wind whips through his hair as he runs faster and faster. Though the rocky cliffs at the end of the beach are still far away and are nearly the same color as the sky, Phil’s eyes have evolved to hunt best at night, and he’s always been competitive enough to know how to keep his eyes on the finish line.

The cool air burns in his nostrils, but he pays the discomfort no mind; although it is painful, it is also the closest thing to breathing he has.

The shiny flash of scales disappears below the surface. Phil knows that Dan will beat him to cliffs – he always does – but Phil hopes to make up ground in the time it will take for Dan to regain his land-legs. 

On their slower days, when their journey to the summit is more of a stroll than a race, Dan always finishes his transformation before meeting Phil at the top. He is beautiful when fully human, his wet curls tinged blue-green from the sea, cheeks pink from both the exertion and the beta-carotene of his algae-based diet.

But, when they race, Dan is too single-minded to wait until he’s fully formed, to focused on the win to worry what Phil will think when he sees Dan as something other than seemingly human. The knowledge that he’ll see that side of Dan tonight makes Phil’s heart clench in a phantom sort of way; he hasn’t had a real beating heart in quite a few years now.

He scrambles up the rocks, relying on the muscle memory he’s developed over the years of doing exactly this. Although it wouldn’t hurt to fall, he’s ended up on his ass in the sand on more than a few occasions, and he really doesn’t want a repeat performance, especially not when the clock is ticking down to when the sea leaves Dan’s skin.

He reaches up, hand splayed wide, and uses the pads of his fingers to pull himself onto the next ledge. Even after all this time, Phil is still shocked by his strength; a younger, more naive Phil never would have guessed that it’d be possible to look _delicate_ while hoisting himself over boulders in the middle of the night.

When he reaches the top, having bounded up the last half dozen or so meters, he takes a deep breath. While he doesn’t need the oxygen, his tongue is more skilled at detecting the flavor and composition of the air now, and nothing feels more refreshing than the crisp, sea-salt breeze that’s far enough from the city to have escaped most of its muggy pollution.

Dan is only a few paces behind, and Phil watches with awe as he dexterously climbs the steeper side of the cliff. He’s more nimble than Phil is, twisting into crevices, long fingers finding even the most shallow of handholds to keep himself steady.

Dan’s hands and feet are always the first to change back, and only the sharp nails at the end of Dan’s fingers give any indication that he might be dangerous. His torso takes longer, pulsing with the merrow blood that makes him ache to return to sea. Phil only knows how Dan feels because he hears it singing to him too, the sound of Dan’s pulse ringing in his ears.

Dan’s chest is still shiny with wet scales that almost sparkle in the moonlight. Phil follows the trail from his pecs down his torso, admiring the iridescent V that always makes him want more. 

Phil stops his gaze from dropping lower out of courtesy rather than any real need; Dan has always turned his nose up at clothes, arguing it foolish to hide protective skin, and he’s certainly never made much attempt to cover himself in any way around Phil.

Dan’s lips are still tinged blue, Phil notices, as he feels arousal stir within him. He knows Dan doesn’t get cold in the water – they’re alike in that way – but the thought of the sea licking past Dan’s lips as he swims only makes Phil yearn to taste the evening ocean in Dan’s mouth.

“Hello,” Dan says shyly, looking down. Phil likes how Dan tends to be a bit formal when he first speaks after transformation – the stilted English lessons from his youth are easier to recall than conversational slang.

“Hi, Lovely,” Phil responds just to see the blush on Dan’s cheeks darken further. “Enjoy your swim?”

Dan nods, though he bites his lip. After a moment he looks back up at Phil. “You have been gone for a long time.”

“Just a week,” Phil says simply. He steps closer to Dan and wraps him in an embrace. “But you’re right, it does feel like a long time.”

Dan brings his arms up around Phil’s back and squeezes hard. The pressure against Phil’s skin is fantastic – no human has the strength to hug him like Dan can. He sighs into the touch.

“Does that mean-” Dan starts before cutting himself off. He tries again. “Did you hunt while you were away?”

His casual tone is betrayed by the audible uptick in his heartbeat as he asks. Phil loves that he can hear how much Dan wants this, his desire nearly as urgent as Phil’s own.

Phil shakes his head slowly with a sly smile. He bats his eyelashes at Dan and asks in a low voice, “Think you could help me out with that?”

“Yeah,” Dan breathes, and Phil’s eyelids flutter shut as he feels the warmth of Dan’s breath against his face.

Phil dips his head lower, brushing his mouth against Dan’s sea-chapped lips. He nearly moans at the contact, the salty-sweet flavor only amplified by skilled way that Dan knows how to move every part of his body.

Dan licks into his mouth, and Phil runs a hand through his curls, twisting and tugging until Dan pulls back from Phil with a pleased groan.

“Go on,” Dan says breathlessly. “I’ve been waiting all week.”

“Mmm, me too,” Phil murmurs, tilting his head to the side to nose against Dan’s neck. 

Merrow blood smells so much sweeter than human blood, masking a tartness that warns creatures like Phil that the being before them isn’t easy prey. He loves Dan’s blood for both reasons; the risk only heightens the pleasure.

Phil licks the salty skin of Dan’s neck, opens his mouth, and lets his fangs piece the skin. 

Dan’s nails dig into Phil’s back, and Phil fleetingly wonders if the magic that makes up Dan’s cells is strong enough to cut through the bonds that keep Phil’s skin undefiled. He’d certainly like to be defiled by Dan one day.

But having Dan squirming and moaning against him as his blood flows into Phil’s mouth is more than enough for now. Phil moves his hands to Dan’s hips to hold him steady, using all of his strength without second thought – unlike humans, Dan isn’t easily broken.

Phil sucks with more force, knowing the sea will heal Dan’s skin as soon as he renters the water. His blood tastes more like raspberry than metal, and, when Phil pulls away far too soon to satiate the magnitude of his desire, he laps up the droplets that roll down Dan’s neck with his tongue.

Dan whines, and Phil brings his hands to Dan’s shoulders. He brushes down his chest slowly, smoothing over the shiny scales. Dan writhes against him and thrusts forward against his clothed crotch – Phil knows Dan’s scales are more sensitive than nearly all other parts of him.

So, Phil reaches towards the one place that wrings even more delicious sounds out of him and wraps a hand around his length. Dan is smaller than Phil, a consequence of their functional differences, with one of them built for frictionless swimming and the other for raw power.

It means Phil barely needs to move his hand to cover Dan’s full length, and the sturdiness of his grip envelopes Dan’s dick in evenly distributed pressure. Dan jerks into the touch, fucking into Phil’s hand frantically.

Dan is one of the only beings strong enough to pull away from Phil if he wants to, but instead he just keeps pressing closer and closer, so totally taken with the monster Phil sometimes sees himself to be.

It only takes a few moments before Dan is teetering on the edge of climax, the earlier race and blood-bite having already brought his bubbling arousal to the surface.

The scent of his lust overwhelming in the best way, and Phil can feel the crest of his own desire. He sucks at Dan’s neck, and, while it’s not the same as biting, the tease of merrow blood rushing just beneath the skin goes straight to his hard cock where it strains against his shorts. It’s the possibility, the yearning, the fact that he _could_ bite, even if he doesn’t actually do so.

Phil tries to fight the current, to delay the tidal wave of orgasm, but it drags him in and spits him out the other side, shaking and sated and so fucking blissed out.

Some of the more convenient perks of being a vampire, Phil thinks, is that he rarely loses stamina and there’s never any need for cleanup. He immediately turns his focus back to Dan and quickly drops to his knees, not even feeling the impact as he hits the hard rock beneath them.

He takes Dan entirely in his mouth and tries to use his tongue as deftly as Dan always seems to. But even just the wet heat of Phil’s mouth is too much for Dan to fight, and he comes shiny, clear fluid down Phil’s throat.

Phil loves the way Dan’s pulse settles after orgasm, how it always finds the rhythm that matches the crashing waves out at sea.

He gets up to stand next to Dan before pulling off his shorts. He takes Dan’s left hand in his right, and they face the ocean together. 

After a mental countdown so well-practiced they don’t even need to say it out loud, they run towards the edge of the cliff and jump – into the sea, into the night, into each other.

Nobody but they would be able to survive the fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi on [tumblr](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/618681059924656129/in-the-dead-of-night)!


End file.
